


love or the lack thereof

by itsbee



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, just dumb fluffy things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsbee/pseuds/itsbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec had never known safety; only the thrill of demon hunting, of never knowing whether or not you would come home alive. But this, he thought, was what it felt like to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love or the lack thereof

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr but I decided to post it here too (takemystrength.tumblr.com)

It was no secret that Alec didn’t know what love was.

If it wasn’t something they learned in Shadowhunter training, it wasn’t something he bothered himself with learning about at all. Even if the love he might feel was something he could act upon, he wasn’t sure he actually would.

 _Love_ was never something he really believed in excluding the love you feel for your family or a very close friend. Did it come to you all at once, in short bursts, or so gradually you didn’t even notice it was happening? Was it supposed to make your heart go a mile a minute, or were you supposed to feel at ease? 

Alec had all the questions and none of the answers.

His relationship status with Magnus, or lack thereof, had been frustratingly ambiguous for the past three months. Alec liked Magnus a lot, sure, but he had no idea what being 18 and dating a centuries-old warlock was supposed to entail. Not to mention the frustration it undoubtedly brought the warlock in question, having a maybe-boyfriend who couldn't put in the least bit of effort. Alec didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, much less what he actually _did_ feel.

Alec looked over at Magnus on the couch, which was currently a minimalist black. They were watching a movie that he didn’t bother to remember the name of, because he wasn’t really paying attention at all. Magnus seemed to be invested in it. There was a bowl of popcorn sitting on the couch separating them and though he didn’t say it, Alec knew Magnus wished it wasn’t there almost as much as Alec wished he could give him what he wanted.

He was too enchanted by the sharp set of the warlock’s jaw, curve of his softly angled eyebrows, elegance of his high cheekbones – to notice that Magnus was staring at him back, a curious yet amused look on his face. Alec promptly diverted his gaze back to the flatscreen and pretended to know what was happening in the movie.

There was a soft rustling beside him. “Alexander,” Magnus said quietly.

Alec wasn’t even sure he had heard it at all, as Magnus was anything but soft-spoken, but when he looked over his blue eyes caught the warlock’s green and yellow. “I wasn’t –” Alec began defensively, then cut himself short. He didn’t even know what Magnus wanted.

“I was just going to say,” Magnus replied with more volume this time, but with the same gentleness he often used when talking to Alec, “that it’s dark out. It’ll be hard to catch a cab to get back to the Institute if you don’t leave now.”

Alec could swear he felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty. Not that he and Magnus hadn’t slept together yet (they had), and Magnus wasn’t giving him the reminder because he wanted him to leave (he didn’t), but Alec always felt too wrapped up in his emotions to stay the night. Maybe it was nerves or confusion or doubt, or a cocktail of the three, but even Alec wasn’t too ignorant to know that it wasn’t fair to Magnus. He didn’t know what love was, and didn’t know if he would ever know was it was, but who was he to not at least try?

“I don’t need to catch a cab,” was all he said.

One of Magnus’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re walking?”

This was only one of many times Alec wished he had Isabelle’s flirty charm or Jace’s quick wit. “No, I just – I’m not walking,” he said awkwardly. He hoped with every fiber of his being that Magnus would get it without having to explicitly saying that he wanted to stay over. “Or getting a cab. Or a bus, or anything.”

“Oh?” Magnus’s mouth quirked up in an almost-smirk, but unlike Jace, it wasn’t superior or mocking.

“I mean I’m not leaving. Wait, that came out wrong. I’ll leave if you want me to. But what I’m trying to say is that I would _like_ to not leave.”

Magnus breathed out through his nose in a sort of half-laugh. “You’re sure?”

Alec just nodded slowly. “But can we turn the movie off? I haven’t been paying attention for the past hour.”

“So I figured.” With a subtle wave of his fingers and a small burst of blue sparks, the TV shut itself off. Magnus, Alec had once noticed in amusement, sometimes used magic for even the simplest of tasks. Showoff. “I’m taking a shower. Make yourself at home,” he said and dropped a glittery eyelid in a wink.

Alec stared after him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He wasn’t usually so nervous with Magnus. Being with him was easy, calming, for the most part. It was the thought of his future with Magnus that made his heart beat faster and his mind race. If it had been three months and he still didn’t know if he could love Magnus, wasn’t it only fair to let him go? Or was it love in the fact that he wasn’t ready or _willing_ to let go?

Alec shook his head, hoping maybe that would help it clear out. It didn’t. He could feel a headache coming on, so he opted to make his way to Magnus’s bedroom. Chairman Meow was curled up on the bed, sleeping as usual. Alec threw open Magnus’s closet and retrieved possibly one of the simplest pair of pants Magnus owned: black sweatpants with small diamonds embroidered around the waistline. In his newfound sweatpants and the grey t-shirt he had been wearing, he crawled onto the bed to lay next to the Chairman. For a moment, Alec thought he might actually fall asleep like this, staring up at the ceiling with one hand stroking the cat’s soft fur, the steady sound of the fan above relaxing him, creaking slightly but in such a rhythmic way that he could almost physically feel it dragging him into sleep.

His eyes, which he hadn’t even realized had being slowly closing, shot open when the door to the bedroom swung wide, letting in a burst of light. He craned his head and saw Magnus, not that it was surprising. What _was_ surprising, though, made Alec sit upright so suddenly that the Chairman made a hissing noise and trotted off the bed, skirting around the warlock in the doorway as he left. Noticing the difference in his warlock with sudden intensity, Alec tried to rack his brain for a time that he had seen Magnus without makeup, but it came up empty. Everything about him looked more fragile. His cat eyes were less penetrating, the shadows under his cheekbones softer, his eyelashes still long and dark but less thick. He had seen Magnus without clothes on, for God’s sake, but this seemed more personal in a strange way. Alec wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but he was sure this was what if felt like to have your breath taken away.

Magnus was beautiful, as he always was, but not in the same way; not all sharp angles, regal and unattainable, but now all soft corners, gentle and vulnerable. Magnus was beautiful, as he always was, and he was on Alec before he had time to catch his breath.

Alec was on his back again, the soft pillow catching his head. Magnus’s knees were on either side of his pelvis and he was leaned in close, so close that their noses almost brushed, fingertips resting gently on Alec’s cheeks. For what felt like the tenth time that night, Alec’s heartrate picked up. He couldn’t help but wonder if this happened to Isabelle with Simon, or Jace with Clary.

“I like you in my pants,” Magnus said with a smirk, reaching down to snap the waistband of the diamond-encrusted sweatpants. “In every sense of the phrase.”

In a second Magnus had rolled off of him, leaving Alec laying there with his mouth slightly ajar. He turned onto his side to look at the coquettish warlock. Magnus was looking back at him, his black hair falling, wavy and tangled, onto his forehead and pooling a little onto the pillow. Alec shifted over cautiously toward him.

When they were almost face-to-face, Magnus leaned in close enough that Alec could feel warm breath on his lips. “You’re beautiful,” Magnus said. “Did you know that?”

“I was going to say the same thing about you,” Alec muttered, eyes diverting from Magnus’s.

Their legs were twined together, one of Magnus’s arms bend underneath his head and the other so softly placed on Alec’s hip that be barely noticed it was there at all. Slowly, his fingers feathered up his waist, then over his chest, to rest on his cheek.

“I love you,” Magnus said, almost absently.

Alec knew he should be flattered, or happy, or jumping for joy, but all it did was fill him with guilt. It wasn’t the first time Magnus said it, and it wouldn’t be the last, but the last thing Alec wanted to do was reply in the way that he always did. Magnus deserved more than an _I know_ at such a confession. He thought he ought to say something witty, or something to brush it off without hurting Magnus’s feelings. Instead, all he said was, “What does it mean to love someone?”

 The response didn’t seem to strike Magnus as a surprise. Instead, he looked deep in thought, for so long that Alec wasn’t sure he was going to reply at all.

“Despite what the dictionary may tell you, Alexander, it’s quite impossible to define love in simple words,” he said finally. “How would you describe the way you love your sister? Jace? Your parents?”

Alec blinked at him.

“You can’t, can you? Love is in the moment and, like you with Isabelle and Jace, even though that love is different from the way I love you, indescribable.”

“People tell me that,” Alec said slowly, exasperated, “all the time. But I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. What made you love _me_ when I walked through the door, and not Jace or Isabelle or Clary? Or even _Simon_? And don’t say it’s my blue eyes, because I know it’s more than that.”

“I know the way it sounds, Alexander, but it is what it is.”

“Yeah, but what about… you know, symptoms?” At this point he was grasping for straws. “There has to be _something_.”

“Love isn't a disease,” Magnus laughed breathily, “even though it might sometimes feel that way. When you love someone, they make you smile, make your heart pound,” he said, deliberately moving his hand from Alec’s cheek to rest on his chest, just above his rapidly beating heart. “Confuse you, sometimes, make you mad, upset. And yet at the end of the day, you can’t help but come back for more. Sound familiar?”

Alec’s hand came around to rest on top of Magnus’s, lacing their fingers together over his own chest. “I do those thing to you? I make your heart pound? I make you  _nervous_?”

“You stupid Nephilim,” Magnus sighed, not without affection. Alec was suddenly brought back to the battle in Idris, the first time Magnus confessed his love. “It must be considered a talent, how oblivious you are to the power that you hold. Even in ten years, I think I'll still get butterflies when you enter a room.”

Alec didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “It’s hard,” he admitted finally. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to be. I don’t know how to love someone like that.”

Without replying, Magnus closed his eyes and leaned forward to press their foreheads together.

“But I want to,” Alec said softly. “I do, I think, love—”

Magnus rushed forward, and the last word died on his lips. “Don’t,” Magnus said after pulling away from the kiss. “You don’t have to say it until you’re sure you mean it and until you’re sure you’re ready. As long as you need.” Alec opened his mouth to retort but Magnus stopped him again. “Really, Alec. You don’t have to say it for me to know. Because trust me, I know.”

Alec looked into his cat eyes. He swore he could feel himself melt under their intensity. “Okay,” was all he said, hardly audible, mostly warm breath hitting Magnus’s lips. Magnus pulled him in closer so that his forehead rested on the warlock’s chin, legs bent together, arms around his midsection. Alec had never known safety; only the thrill of demon hunting, of never knowing whether or not you would come home alive. But this, he thought, was what it felt like to be safe.

It was no secret that Alec didn’t know what love was, but damned if he wasn’t going to try.


End file.
